Leaving Langley Falls
by Dominick Disaster
Summary: During the episode "A Jones for a Smith," Terry and Greg are shot as the result of another of Stan's antics. Well, Terry's had enough of it and decides to leave Langely Falls.


**Title:** Leaving Langley Falls  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own American Dad. But I would like to thank Seth MacFarlane for bringing gay side characters into my life.  
**Pairing/Characters:** Terry Bates/Greg Corbin  
**Warnings:** Bullet wounds, minor violence. Nothing serious.

**Summary:** During the episode "A Jones for a Smith," Terry and Greg are shot as the result of another of Stan's antics. Well, Terry's had enough of it and decides to leave Langely Falls.

**Author's Notes:** I wrote _another_ American Dad! fanfiction!

This one has three parts planned for it, like an episodes with two breaks for commercials. I'm pretty excited and hopefully it'll go smoothly. I'll be taking a break for next week's story to write something special for Valentine's Day.

This one feels a little rushed, really. I think I was pretty lazy with it and I'm worried it shows. The next two parts are going to be more in depth from the stages of planning I'm in right now. For this one, I really just wanted to establish the ideas and end with Terry saying that line.

Anyway, enjoy!

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Waking up after being shot wasn't quite like anything Terry had experienced before - which likely came from the fact he had never been shot and never really went in search of the experience. Reflecting on it, it had certainly been a difficult thing to do when living across from Stan Smith, the only complete ignoramus he knew to be licensed in the entire United States. Not only that but being in the CIA he was practically encouraged to carry one. And despite this, it wasn't even Stan that had shot him, oh no, but the ignoramus part still applied without question. That was something that was resolute in his aching head as he crawled towards the edges of consciousness, dragging his cute ensemble through the metaphorical mud of his hazy mind.

He didn't really mind hospitals, unlike Greg who always had this feeling of concern whenever he stepped into one. He described it once as simply feeling like he either should be injured or that he was going to be, even when they were just sitting in the waiting room. Terry had decided that they were, basically, very clean, drab homes with residents walking around that liked to carry clipboards everywhere to look official. Visits to the hospital usually involved him calming Greg down, even if he was the one hurting. Thankfully, prior to this visit, it was safe to say that nothing serious had ever happened to them.

And then they got shot.

Terry was more aware of the pain in his sternum than the one in his head. It was dull, however, which meant that they'd unsurprisingly had him drugged until this point. If anything he just wanted to wake up to ask for more, but whatever machine they had responding to his bodily functions felt satisfied enough with his eyes opening to chirp and call every nearby doctor over. Before he knew it, people were bustling around him, telling him to lie still and relax as though he'd had his legs amputated and risked mental trauma if he were to look down. He watched them move around, usually focusing on one person until they left his eyesight to avoid becoming dizzy.

After a while he blinked slowly, fisting his hands in the sheet and looking down to make sure that he'd actually done it. There was the chance of spinal damage, which he hadn't even considered until he heard someone mutter about it, but apparently he could work at least his arms. With that task out of the way he immediately reached out to snag the nearest person's arm. She jumped, seeming surprised at the motion and Terry could have sworn she was looking at him like he'd been declared dead and just wasn't listening.

"Where's Greg?" he demanded, flinching at the inhale that it took to speak. His entire chest felt like one giant, painful bruise that had seeped into the various organs beneath. But his grip stayed strong even as she stuttered, "And my daughter."

An older doctor, who didn't seem at all surprised by his questions, walked over to coax his hand away from the girl's. Terry found himself oddly reluctant to let go but when he was pointed to the other side of the room where his boyfriend was laying, he realized that was just because he desperately wanted to be holding Greg's hand.

The brunette wasn't awake, his chest bandaged and breathing into an oxygen mask, but Terry had been assured that he would live and the apparent comatose state was medically induced for his recovery. It was a comforting bit of news, but it was not anything like described in stories after such an occurrence. He had absolutely no inclination to be in a better mood after this and now, knowing that Greg was at least okay, his thoughts flew again to his daughter. He whirled around, fully prepared to start shrieking until he got the answer, but the doctor was a competent one, thankfully.

"And your daughter is with the Smith family," he explained, smiling slightly as though he was a bit proud of himself for having that information on hand. Terry, however, did not look at all pleased.

"I want her here, _now_!" He screamed, sitting up and making himself light-headed in the process. As he fell back against the pillow he watched the nurse he'd terrified run out of the room after listening to a few words from the doctor. He closed his eyes, placing a hand over them and trying not to shake with the mixture of anger and tears that were surging through him. He _really _wanted to hold Greg's hand right now, just the idea of it helped but not nearly enough. There was a strange sort of condolence in it, like the simple strength in his grip was enough to make all of their problems too scared to come any closer. It was a silly thought, he knew it, but for now it was all he had.

He didn't really mind Francine, honestly, if he had then he wouldn't have let her be the surrogate for their child. But the idea that Libby was with the Smith's was a very unnerving one, in massive part because of Stan kidnapping her. Francine had convinced him and Greg to drop the restraining order in reflection of the fact that Stan had given them Libby back, but that didn't mean much when he was coherent. It meant even less now that the agent had gotten the two of them shot by that crazed negotiator. Terry didn't even realized he'd started shaking until the nurse came in and rested a hand on his shoulder, telling him to calm down and breathe.

"Can I sit next to Greg?" he asked, mindful of the fact that he was always the one that was best under pressure out of the two of them. The nurse looked at him somewhat apologetically and Terry could already tell he wasn't going to like the answer.

"It's best if you just rest."

"I'm not going to be able to _rest_ with him all the way over there and me all the way over here!" he explained, feeling his voice crack with surprising weakness at the back of his throat.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bates, I'm just a nurse. I can't give you permission to do that until the doctor's fully examined you."

"I'm _fine_! It's not like I'm asking you to let me run the marathon, I just want to sit next to Greg," he snapped, wondering if he had ever felt as frustrated as he did right now.

"Please, Mr. Bates, just calm down. The doctor will be with you as soon as possible, then you can sit next to Mr. Corbin," he found her tone to be surprisingly warm, even while his insides were churning in anger. He shouldn't have cared that she was being so nice but he felt like a helpless child sitting in his hospital bed and all he wanted to do was cry.

"Could you just tell him to hurry, please?"

She nodded, forming a smile laced with encouragement, though Terry felt little inclination to respond to it. As she bustled out of the room he looked back to his hands, fidgeting with them as though it made up for the lack of Greg's. How could they expect him to just relax when his lover was in a coma and his daughter was with the biggest idiot he had ever known? It was like telling people not to panic when their house was on fire - the reaction was programmed, there was no way to respond to it that would make it any easier to deal with.

The blonde couldn't be sure how warped his sense of time had become thanks to all of this, but he knew that the Smith's had gotten there with surprising speed. The nurse hadn't even returned with the doctor yet, though someone official must have decided that he was okay enough to see visitors. As Stan stepped into the room, Terry found himself glaring sharply, wondering how many people's legs he had broken and lives he had ended on the grate of that stupid Hummer he drove. Destroying the planet and lives in one fell swoop, that was practically his life's goal and he didn't even _know _it. Idiot.

Francine was next, cradling Libby in her arms and Terry didn't even bother to try to resist the urge to reach his arms towards his little girl. His sternum gave a jab of pain in reply, but it faded quickly as the drugs they were giving him proved more than enough.

"Oh my God, Terry, I'm so sorry for everything," she said, passing the baby over as she spoke. The little bundle's warmth in his arms was practically an anti-psychotic, visible by the way he relaxed into the pillows at his back. At the very least his family was back together. Granted, Greg was in a medically induced coma but he was recovering and present. Libby reached out towards the news anchor's face and Terry lowered it enough that she could pat him on the cheek and coo cheerfully. With their little reunion complete, he felt more than comfortable raising his face up to Francine.

"It's alright, Francine, I don't blame you," he said, giving a slight smile before turning to Stan. It should have been physically impossible for someone's expression to shift so fast, but suddenly the calmed blonde looked like he might sprout horns and a forked tongue. "I blame _you_, Stan!"

"Me!?" Stan seemed taken aback by the accusation. Terry wasn't terribly surprised, the only way someone could have been so stupid is if they had blocked it out for most of their lives or didn't even realize it. He was betting Stan Smith fit into the latter category.

"If it wasn't for you and that stupid addiction, none of this would have happened! Greg wouldn't be in a medically induced coma with a bullet wound to the shoulder, I wouldn't have a broken sternum, which will probably leave me unable to exercise for at least two months and then I'll get fat and Greg won't want to touch me and-ugh!" He was only slightly soothed by Francine's hand on his shoulder but as it started to trickle through his system he shooed it and the soft 'calm down, Terry' away, "No, Francine, I will _not _calm down. God, Stan, why can't you just ruin someone else's lives for once? How can you keep _doing _this to us?"

"Well you live right across the street, I mean, it's pretty easy access if you think about it," Stan mused out loud, tapping a finger against his chin and turning slightly to shift the breeze that was undoubtedly going through his ears. If Terry had bothered to look he might have noticed that he and Francine were wearing matching glares up until the point a look of sudden inspiration overtook his features.

"That's it!"

Stan continued, "Of course it is. Didn't you know that you lived across from us? Why do you think you see us all the-"

"Not that, Stan," Terry snapped. His expression was not a pleased one, though he did seem somewhat more content than he had since the one-sided argument started. "The Corbin-Bates household is leaving Langley Falls."


End file.
